Another morning passes, and I am filled with polimorphic sanity.A thousand unrestrained brush strokes gently curling through the clouds.And here I am, but a spirit bathed in the decedence of first light.Where has that golden sunrise gone to?As a child I would gaze up in wonder at an endless, liquid horrizon.Shaping the morning in it`s own sacred inclinations.And though I keep my eyes aimed skyward, the dawn comes only after my shadow`s last descent.This journey shall be the keeper of fates,and I am the alter upon which destiny is forged.

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How Pronounce `Faux Pas`
Oh, so that`s how you say it. I think Pronunciation Manual is my new favorite youtube channel!7/13/2015 9:04:22 AM